Waiting For Rain

It is March in Kenya’s Great Rift Valley. The sky is an ominous shade of blue-grey. The driver of our tiny tour bus glances upwards. He puts the pedal to the metal. Humid, sticky air blasts in through half-open windows. It forms a thick paste on exposed skin. He looks at the sky again, as if to say “What are you waiting for?” He laughs. He says something in Swahili. It is the rainy season but our road, thankfully, is paved – and our landscape is electric.

We are visiting a Maasai village today. We are tired. We spent the night before safari departure in tents atop a Nairobi office building. We awakened early. Thousands of people in Nairobi live on rooftops permanently. We were a small part of the morning rush: washing up, packing up, getting ready to join the crowds in the streets below.  If The Great Rift Valley is the birthplace of civilization, Nairobi is the engine that propels it forward.

Photo by Elido Turco

We venture closer to the village. Against the scrub brush and quickly darkening sky, we spot our Maasai hosts. They wear traditional clothing — scarlet material, draped over one shoulder. We step out of the bus. The earth is soft and gooey, like cookie batter against sandaled feet. The village smells of wood smoke.

We are invited into a private home, shaped like a loaf of bread and constructed from mud, sticks and cow dung. Happily, we accept. With the aid of a translator, we discuss life in a Maasai village. Most Maasai herd cattle, sheep or goats. Meat and milk are staple foods here. On rare occasions, Maasai will cultivate vegetables. The Maasai drink cattle blood sometimes. It is consumed on special occasions and also given to the sick, for whom it is believed to act as a health tonic. Cow’s blood contains iron and vitamins and fortifies the immune system.

Outdoors we watch a traditional “jumping dance,” as it is called in the West, adumu in Maasai. Young men demonstrate their prowess by taking turns jumping in front of the group. The decibel level of the singing increases as the jumpers get airborne.

Maasai are also master beaders. Our tour having concluded, we are approached by Maasai children bearing beautiful red, yellow and blue beaded bracelets. We purchase as many as we can carry. We ponder the effects of modernity and tourism on the traditional semi-nomadic Maasai lifestyle, but soon we are back on the road again.

Finally, it rains.

—Marthe Weyandt